


End of an Era

by annamariestark



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 17:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21377617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annamariestark/pseuds/annamariestark
Summary: Asra takes the wrong way home and meets a fate he never could have expected.Prologue to Soft To Be Strong
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	End of an Era

The evening had begun innocently enough. Asra had received a call to the palace earlier in the day. He’d had his suspicions when Nadia had begun asking him pointed questions that all seemed to revolve around things he liked, hypothetical party situations, and so forth, so he was unsurprised when a carriage arrived for him on the afternoon of his birthday. It wasn’t unlike his friend to put together lavish celebrations for those she cared about. He good-naturedly accepted the ride, and arrived at the palace to find a small gathering—Nadia, his parents, Muriel.

“You didn’t have to do this, Nadia,” Asra insisted, somewhat embarrassed.

“Nonsense. You are a friend, it is your birthday, that warrants celebration.” Nadia replied in a clipped tone that suggested that was the end of the conversation, and Asra knew better than to argue. The evening passed in an enjoyable fashion, and at the end of the night, Asra opted to walk home. It was a bit chilly, but he liked the crisp air, and with the moon riding high in the sky, he left the palace in good spirits with Faust curled around his shoulders.

As they reached the halfway point, Faust chirped at him happily.

_“Race!”_ She slithered down to the cobblestones and took off before he could protest, and he chuckled before dashing to catch up. He took a side street into an alley, a shortcut they used often. It was deserted, just the light of the moon shining brightly down upon him. But as he neared the end of the alley, a figure appeared out of nowhere, slamming Asra into the wall nearest him. In the commotion, he could barely make out who it was—no one he recognized, of that he was sure. It was a man, tall and lanky, auburn hair lit up like fire in the moonlight. He was wearing an eyepatch over his right eye.

Asra struggled against the hold, but found he was no match for his attacker. Before he could think to try anything else, he felt a searing pain as the man bit into his neck. Blood trickled down his chest, staining his shirt crimson. He gasped for breath as more and more of his blood was drained. Finally, just when it seemed like the moment would never end, the man drew back, blood smeared over his face, grinning wildly. He bit into one of his own wrists and forced it in to Asra’s mouth.

“Drink,” he commanded. Asra balked at the thought, and tried to squirm away, but he was too weak to move.

“Drink, child.” His voice was cruel, cold. Asra didn’t want to die, and he could feel himself slipping away. So he obeyed, drinking deeply, choking as the cool, thick blood ran down his throat. His heartbeat sped up in such a way Asra was sure that his heart might escape his chest. When the man wrenched his arm away from Asra, he laughed harshly.

“Enjoy your new life,” he hissed, and with that, he took off running. Asra stood stock-still, still leaning against the wall, when he felt his heart stop moving. Just like that, it ceased beating, and the stillness in his chest was terrifying. Asra clawed at the skin over his heart, willing it to beat, to move again, but it did not. Fangs appeared in his mouth, and he doubled over in excruciating pain.

_Gods, I’m thirsty. _

He knew then, what had happened. He wasn’t thirsty for just any substance. He wanted-- craved-- absolutely needed blood. Anyone’s blood would do. He wanted it more than anything.

_I’ve become a monster._

Asra fled into the night, the race forgotten, _Faust_ forgotten, the only thing on his mind now was blood. Hot, red, rushing blood, and the desire to drink as much of it as he possibly could. He happened upon a young woman not much farther away from where he’d been attacked, dumping out a pail of water from her back door.

“Please, help me,” he said, putting on his best pained expression. “Please, I need help.” She looked at him, eyes widening in surprise as she took in the mess of blood staining his clothes. The wound from the bite had healed, however, giving no clue then as to how he’d sustained any injury.

“Oh, you poor dear, come inside, what happened?” She stood to the side, allowing him entry. He crossed the threshold smoothly. He knew that as he was now, he could only enter a home with an invitation. He turned to the woman. She was short, blonde hair falling in ringlets around a cheerful face. Freckles danced across her nose, and she smiled up at him.

“Please, someone attacked me, I’m so scared,” Asra pleaded. Seemingly without thinking, she opened her arms to him, indicating he should hug her. And that he did. He let a few moments pass before he let his fangs drop, before he sank them into the girl’s neck. He used his scarf to muffle her scream, and drank deeply of her until she was slack in his arms, until her supply of blood had run dry. He finally felt some small relief then.

_Shit._ The thought struck him suddenly, and he froze in fear. _What do I do with the body?_

_The eels. _

The vampire eels in the canal. Surely, if he dumped her body there, no one would know the difference in what had really taken this woman’s life. Asra scooped her up, making for the canal as fast as he could. According to his watch, it was close to midnight, and the streets were deserted. He reached his destination and dropped her body into the water, bracing against the splash back, cool water spraying his face, his clothing.

Just then, the full weight of what he had done hit him in a wave of new pain, of guilt, of pure despair.

_I murdered her. I stole her blood and I _murdered_ her. And for what? So I can live as this… abomination? What am I doing? I should have let that vampire drain me, kill me. I deserve death. Gods, what a monster I’ve become. I should die for what I did._

He continued to berate himself as he turned away from the city, heading for the forest. That night, he sat perched in a tree, hatred seething in his head. He hated himself. Hated what he had become. A cold, ruthless killer. Just like the one who had made him.

_But, I suppose, if this is what I am now, I have to survive, right? Mom and Dad would want me to survive no matter what. But I can’t go back to them—no, I can’t ever see them again. Nadia, Muriel, Faust, they can never see me like this. I won’t let it happen. I’m dead to them. Hell, I’m as good as dead, anyway. Might as well stay out of their lives, they’ll be happier and better off without seeing me as I am now. _

Asra waited a few months, until he was sure Faust had gone from his old shop, before returning home. His mind was still reeling; he still couldn’t believe what he’d become.

Over time, however, he began to accept it. He grew practiced, learned how to get the blood that he wanted with minimal effort. He embraced his new life as best he could, and tried to never look back, though the searing pain of what he’d left behind still haunted him.

\--

_One Year Later_

Faust slithered into the house through the pet hole in the door, regarding her surroundings with a glum feeling that penetrated to her bones. It had been a long time now since Asra had disappeared, and she felt it was her fault. She swore she could still feel him, somewhere, and so for over a year, every night, she went looking. Chimes and Flamel greeted her as she curled into a ball on the back of an armchair.

_“Asra?”_ Chimes asked, tongue flicking, head tilting curiously.

_“No._” Faust replied, winding her way down from the chair. “_Gone.”_ She slipped out of sight, knowing in her heart that she’d never see her friend again.


End file.
